


Kiss and Tell

by lady_needless_litany



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Handwaving, Light Angst, Los Angeles, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 04:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21130418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_needless_litany/pseuds/lady_needless_litany
Summary: With the three of them, nothing is straightforward.





	Kiss and Tell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sholio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [Sholio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/pseuds/Sholio) in the [happy_belated_treatmas_2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/happy_belated_treatmas_2019) collection. 

Both Peggy and Daniel had a habit of working late. It had become something of a custom, in a way; they'd work at their respective desks, then, sometimes, go out for drinks or dinner together. Most of their dates happened that way—it was the easiest way to fit them around their hectic schedules.

When Jack was sent to appraise the LA office, some six months after the Isodyne case, they didn't deviate from that routine. The sun was already burning orange when there was a knock on Daniel's office door. "Sousa, have you got a minute?"

At Jack's arrival, Daniel started, dropping his pen. He'd been completely absorbed in the paperwork in front of him, away in his own little world.

Recovering, he gestured to a seat. "Sure."

Jack, not standing on ceremony, dropped into the chair opposite him.

"Is there something I can do for you?"

"Not really. It's late—everyone else has gone home, apart from us and Peggy. I just came to check on you."

"Really." Daniel replied flatly, sounding doubtful. He glanced at the clock on the wall; Jack was right: it was well past the SSR’s day-to-day hours and he was sure that Peggy would be coming through at any minute.

"Yeah," he said, shrugging. "How are you? It's been a while."

"It has." Daniel shrugged, though he was touched by the question. Not that he'd admit it. "I'm fine, thanks for asking."

"How's it going with Marge?"

He rolled his eyes at Jack's nickname. "It's going."

"When's the wedding?" he joked.

"Hold on, hold on. We're nowhere near that. Yet."

"Fair enough. It's a terrifying prospect." Jack paused. "_She's_ a terrifying prospect."

Despite himself, he laughed. "You're a real bastard, sometimes. You know that?"

"I know." There was no malice to Jack's words, of course; the three of them long since grown out of their childish prejudices and rivalries, their relationships softening into competitive friendships. Or slightly more, in Daniel and Peggy's case. "Seriously, though, you'd better invite me to your wedding."

"Consider it done." He shook his head, imagining it. "Just make sure you buy us a good wedding present."

"Will do." Jack heaved himself to his feet. "Right. I'd better go."

Daniel stood, too, and moved around his desk, intending to open the door for him. Before he could complete his task, however, Jack intercepted him with a question.

"Tell me, I'm curious," he said, with a quizzical tone and glint of something else in his eyes. "How _did _you and Carter end up together? I saw parts of it, obviously, but how did it really work?"

_Well, first I fancied you._ Daniel cleared his throat. "I guess it just happened."

"You make it sound so easy."

"Trust me, it wasn't," he reassured him. "Have you got anyone at the moment?"

"No such luck."

"Jobs like these make it harder," he said, by way of consolation.

"There's that. But even without that, people wouldn't be falling over themselves—I'm far too difficult."

"If by 'difficult', you mean 'asshole', then I see your problem," Daniel needled. "But you're not that bad, when it comes down to it. I can handle you, and Peggy certainly can."

Jack made a small noise of acknowledgement, then fell silent. There was something pensive in his features, Daniel noted. His next thought was, quite suddenly, the realisation of how near they'd drawn to each other—near enough to faintly smell each other's cologne and to sense each other's every breath. They were so close, and the air between them so taut, that it suddenly seemed impossible that they wouldn't come together.

And it was Jack who initiated it, against his every expectation, leaning in and bringing their lips together.

Jack kissed carefully, like he wanted to be sure he was getting it right. As he grew surer, he was more confident, more passionate. Without thinking, Daniel responded, eyes closing and one hand sliding onto Jack's shoulder to hold him closer. It was, at points, a little incertain; it was also warm and slow and very, very wanted.

For a moment or two, Daniel completely lost himself in it.

Then his thoughts surfaced. _Wait, no, we can't do this. It's not right. It's not fair. Peggy would be—furious? Disappointed? Heartbroken?_

Suddenly, as if his thoughts had summoned her, there she was, stood in the doorway, and he no longer had to imagine how she'd react. He caught sight of her from the corner of his eye and he broke away from Jack instantly.

"Peggy!" he gasped, flinging one hand out, as if to calm a raging animal. "I—this isn't—wait a second."

He wanted to say _this isn't what it looks like_, except that would be the completely wrong thing to say: it would be unhelpful, insulting and, in many ways, untrue.

"I'm waiting," she responded, somewhat dazed. To his relief, her tone wasn't immediately cold or judgemental—just deeply perplexed.

Slowly, she moved into the room, shutting the door behind her. It was a good sign, Daniel reasoned, that she was still displaying her characteristic attention to detail. It caused a pang of guilt, though; her thoughtfulness and carefulness were one of the things he loved about her.

She came to a stop in front of the two of them, standing stock-still, arms crossed. There were two spots of colour, high on her cheeks, but she was otherwise impassive. It was scarily similar to the expression she wore when she was interrogating someone, trying to feel them out.

Daniel opened his mouth, trying to formulate a sentence. "I-"

Jack, it seemed, had beat him to coherency. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding unusually repentant. "This isn't Sousa's fault."

In that moment, given the situation they were in, there was something horribly cold about being called 'Sousa' by Jack—especially considering the detached, disinterested tone. For a split second, it catapulted him back to his earlier days at the SSR, always feeling like he existed in Jack's shadow, adrift from his colleagues.

"We'll see about that," she fired back, mind and heart reignited by Jack's reply. "It takes two to tango."

"Peg, it just happened. It wasn't planned. I know that's not an excuse-" Daniel looked at her, near-pleading. "But there's nothing to it."

Universally, it was the wrong thing to say. Next to him, he felt Jack stiffen and he could only imagine what was running through the man's mind; in his position, Daniel was sure that his thoughts would be rank with betrayal. Across from him, he was certain of the doubt that he saw in Peggy's eyes. And within himself, he was completely at a loss. The words had been instinctual, but they felt wrong. Untrue.

When no further explanation was forthcoming from either man, Peggy sighed. "Look, it's late. I'm going home. We can talk about this tomorrow."

Between them, they all managed to avoid eye contact as she turned and left. With a definitive _thunk_, door swung shut behind her.

In the silence that she left behind, Daniel cleared his throat. "Well, I-"

"I'll see you tomorrow, Sousa," Jack said, brushing past him. He retraced Peggy's steps to the door, pulled it open, and disappeared into the empty office building.

_Wow_, Daniel told himself. In the space of minutes, he'd gone from talking about marriage to kissing his colleague to alienating them both—and he wasn't entirely sure how or why, either. But there was no doubt in his mind, at that point: _I'm a complete asshole._

* * *

The next morning, when he arrived at the office, Peggy was already there, working away at her desk. Daniel took a rather circuitous route in an attempt to be discreet. It was useless, of course; Peggy was an observant woman and they both knew that she had seen him from the corner of her eye.

He fiddled around in his office for ten, fifteen minutes. Then he sighed and rubbed his forehead. Better to have it over with sooner rather than later, he figured. With a growing sense of apprehension, he stepped out of the room.

The office was still mostly empty, thankfully. He made his way over to Peggy's desk. "Peggy," he said, voice low and quiet. "Can I speak to you, please? In private?"

Without speaking, she looked at him; then she nodded and pushed her chair back. She led him to one of the rooms that branched off the central office space, a kind of meeting room that was rarely used. On the better days of their relationship, they'd been known to use it for a private chat or to snatch a kiss.

Today, the atmosphere was quite different.

The space was cramped, but managed to hold four chairs and a modest table. Peggy took a seat, setting her hands on the table in thought, and indicated that Daniel sit opposite. He obliged, suddenly hit by a bout of nerves.

"What is it that you want to talk about?" Peggy asked, her tone professional to a fault. Unlike him, she maintained a flawless façade of calmness. It was only when he looked closely that he saw, underneath her carefully arranged powder, the under-eye circles that betrayed her tiredness.

At her question, however, his stomach churned. He'd considered a hundred different ways to start this conversation, but they all felt trite or inadequate. He settled on the only thing that fitted, a simple, “I’m sorry.”

Peggy's reply was perfectly measured. “For what?”

“You know what.”

She tilted her head, waiting. It was a look that had become familiar over months of working cases together, one that brooked no argument.

He pressed his lips together. “I’m sorry for - for kissing Jack. I just… I wasn’t thinking.”

"Things like that don't just happen, Daniel, and you know it." Peggy said. "But I know that you wouldn't do something like that to hurt me."

He shook his head. "Of course not."

"In that case, I suggest that we start from the start."

As usual, her suggestion was sound. In as few words as possible, he recounted the details of the previous night, omitting nothing.

"I see," was all she said when he'd finished.

"So?" he prompted.

"It's not my place to pass judgement on you, Daniel. There's no point in that." She glanced away, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. "I'd just like us to come to an understanding."

* * *

It was ten o'clock before Jack turned up to work, far later than usual—even then, he slunk in, trying to avoid eye-contact and conversation with everyone.

At about midday, Peggy, with no prior warning, materialised by his desk. "Would you let me buy you lunch?"

He shrugged, trying—and failing—to appear nonchalant. "As long as you're paying."

Peggy picked the place, a quiet restaurant across the road. It was a little too expensive for most SSR agents to frequent on a daily basis, so they were fairly safe from prying colleagues.

Once the maitre d’ had seated them, they perused the menus and placed their orders without saying a word to one another. The silence wasn’t frosty, exactly, but it certainly wasn’t friendly.

It was Jack that yielded first. “What’s this about, Carter?”

“The pleasure of your company,” she answered, keeping her voice level. She felt a distinct sense of déjà vu, given her own predicament that morning.

Jack didn’t deign to reply; he just looked at her, disbelieving. They were both on edge, minds full of the images of the evening before—and both were reluctant to be the first to broach the subject.

Rolling her eyes, she sighed. "I spoke to Daniel."

“What’s that got to do with me?”

"Jack, don't make this harder than it already is," she said, exasperated.

He raised his hands in silent, belligerent protest. “I’m not doing anything.”

She fixed him with a no-nonsense look. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

"What is it that you want, Carter? I'm not a fucking mindreader!"

Her face didn't noticeably change, but it had come out harsher than he'd intended.

"Sorry, I didn't mean-"

"I know," she replied quietly. She steeled herself. "I spoke to Daniel. We've… well, I suppose you could say we've reconciled."

Despite himself, Jack couldn't help it; he responded, bitingly, "Fantastic."

Ignoring it, Peggy continued, "More than that, we've agreed that we both like and respect you. Much in the same way that we like and respect each other."

A look of utter befuddlement crossed his face. "I'm confused. What are you actually saying?"

"I'm saying that we're reaching out to you. Saying that none of us have to choose. You, me, Daniel: together." Peggy looked him straight in the eye, cringing and expecting the worst, but determined nonetheless. "You can say 'no', of course. Most people would, I understand that."

"Together. _Together_ together?"

She nodded emphatically. "Yes."

Even then, he was wary. "Excuse my language—I shouldn't be saying this in front of a lady—but is this just a sex thing? For you and Daniel?"

"Absolutely not. It's not just sex. And it's about the three of us."

"Hypothetically… how would that work?"

"I don't know. We'll work it out, I'm sure."

"Hm."

They lapsed into silence once more, as their food was placed onto the table in front of them. They set about eating, the scrape of cutlery against plates going some way to fill the quiet.

Suddenly, Jack spoke up. "Just don't tell my mother."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Peggy's sincerity was reassuring. "And is that a yes?"

His shoulders relaxed slightly. "I think so."

They said nothing more; they didn't need to. Companionably, they finished their respective meals and split the check. They chatted idly as they crossed the road and reentered the building, talking about the weather and the cases that they were working.

It wasn't until they were on the office building's stairwell, almost back to work, that Jack stopped. "Hang on a minute. It feels weird that I've kissed Daniel, but not you."

He felt almost foolish for suggesting it, but it was true - their agreement, if that's what is was, felt too abstract. Too much like he'd made it up in his head and didn't have anything tangible to prove it was real. Fortunately, Peggy, perceptive as always, seemed to understand.

They had paused on a landing; Peggy glanced up and down to check that they were truly alone.

"We can fix that," she promised, taking a step towards him.

He laughed. "If we're really doing this, I guess so."

"In that case, then-" Peggy cut herself off, leaning towards him and pressing their lips together gently. It was brief and fleeting and chaste, but it felt _right_. When they parted, Jack couldn't stop one corner of his mouth rising with satisfaction.

* * *

Peggy was in the middle of a casefile, making notes, when Daniel pulled up a chair and sat opposite her. “I saw that you took Jack for lunch.”

She looked up. "Is that jealousy, I hear?"

"Hardly. Curiosity." Daniel smiled at her teasing tone. "How did it go?"

Cautious of prying eyes and ears, she chose her words carefully. "Well, I think. He's open to it, but it'll take time for all of us to work it out."

"When you say 'well'..." he hesitated. "Was he—I don't know—enthusiastic?"

"I'd say so," she replied, an uncharacteristic blush warming her cheeks. It sparked his natural inquisitiveness.

"C'mon, Peg. If this is going to work, we've gotta talk."

"Daniel, you're nothing but a gossip!" she exclaimed, though she recognised the truth in his words.

He looked at her with his best, most pleading puppy-dog eyes. "Please?"

"Fine." Peggy averted her eyes, somewhat mortified, and dropped her voice. "I kissed him."

"Well," he replied, traces of a grin forming on his face. He was beginning to look like a cat that had gotten the cream. "That makes two of us."


End file.
